


What Happens In Posada...

by Random_Nerd3



Series: Jaskier Addams is a little shit and he knows it [4]
Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Chaos, Crack, Gen, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Being a Feral Bastard, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, They Finally Meet Y'All, but doesnt because he's stupid himbo man and falls in love with jaskier instead, don't insult geralt if he's around, fake crack, geralt goes sniff sniff and almost figures out Jaskier is an addams, i'm back bitches, many knives, posada, tags will change, unrequited pining, updates on weekends, you'll meet the pointy end of one of his many
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25253167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Nerd3/pseuds/Random_Nerd3
Summary: Jaskier Addams finally has the pleasure of meeting Geralt of Rivia in the flesh.Note:I'd recommend starting with the first fic in this series. This could technically be read as a stand alone though.
Relationships: Filavandrel aén Fidhál & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Jaskier Addams is a little shit and he knows it [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752889
Comments: 9
Kudos: 173





	What Happens In Posada...

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back bitches.
> 
> Destiny decided to gift me with the curse of writer's block for this fandom and I despise her for it. Hopefully this first chapter makes up for my absence though! 
> 
> Let me know what you all think, I love hearing feedback from everyone! :)
> 
> Enjoy,
> 
> R

Jaskier traveled alone for the next few months, bouncing between shitty towns and traveling through forests. The air around him grew thick with sorrow as he left dead leaves in his wake. He played his melancholy tunes and shadows wrapped around his soul while he continued to search for the man who haunted his dreams. As he traveled through the woods night fell and dense fog rolled into the thicker parts of the forest. 

Eventually he made his way to Posada, a small backwater hamlet. The tavern was settled on the crest of a hill. Jaskier found himself staying in a spare room above the bar, board for entertainment. The building itself had two floors, one for rooms and one for the sitting areas. He’d been playing there for a week or so, testing out some new material. Granted, the bard’s more recent songs were jaunty and scandalous. They didn't have a lick of adventure in the lyrics no matter how hard he tried to write.

The drunks he played for never had decent enough taste to appreciate any of his more complicated routines. Unfortunately his inspiration as of late was going down the drain. Creative blocks weren’t uncommon, but he was going to lose his head if he had to play through  _ The Adventure of the Lioness _ one more time. The song was about Calanthe’s introductions to the other Addamses. Jaskier didn’t reveal his family name in it though, instead switching it out with a fake name. Jaskier sighed as he took a drink from his mug of ale, eyeing the day’s crowd. The men seemed to be more of a rowdy bunch, yelling for more liquor without even getting out of their seats. “How about a song?” Jaskier asked the table next to him with a cheeky grin. 

Deciding to make a quick change of pace he began to strum the beginning notes of  _ Fishmonger’s Daughter _ , one of the more… raunchy tunes in his repertoire. Unfortunately though the instrumentals in the song was catchy, Jaskier had to work out some kinks in the lyrics. This resulted in his current predicament, being pelted with stale bread as he cowered in a corner. Though he would’ve easily been able to fight them all off, the Addams clan wasn’t as welcome in Posada as Jaskier would’ve liked. He took the beatings and the crowd’s anger soon dwindled down to being a mild annoyance. 

As he started shoving bread into his pants - where else was he going to put it? - he noticed the brooding stranger sitting in the secluded corner of the tavern. Jaskier raised an eyebrow,  _ hello there,  _ he thought as he made his way across the bar,  _ and who might you be? _ “Hello there,” Jaskier said, a cheeky smile crossing his face. The stranger grunted and said nothing. Jaskier leaned against the post, rather seductively might he add. “Everyone else decided they had an opinion about my performance here tonight. Everyone that is, except you.” He continued, reaching forward to boop the stranger’s nose. The man went cross-eyed, watching Jaksier's movements. He reached up with faster-than-human reflexes and caught Jaskier's hand just before he poked his nose.  _ That explains the chaos rolling off the guy’s skin,  _ Jaskier mused as the stranger slowly released his wrist.

“I came to drink alone,” the mystery man said, speaking with a deep gravelly voice. And fuck if the sound of this man’s voice didn’t go straight to Jaskier’s cock he didn’t know what would. Mystery man sniffed the air then grimaced as if something rancid attacked his nose. Leaning forward Jaskier placed his elbows on the table, resting his chin on the palms of his hands.

“Oh come on then,” Jaskier said, “you don’t want to keep a bard with bread in his pants waiting. Three words or less, how about it then?” The shimmer of a sword hilt caught Jaskier’s eyes when the man shifted and the metal got caught in the sun. The man pondered his choices for a few moments then a thin smile stretched across his face,

“They don’t exist.” Jaskier frowned then slid into the seat.

“What don’t exist?” He asked, honestly confused about the man’s review. They reverted to an uncomfortable silence before,

“The monsters in your songs. They don’t exist.” Jaskier winced, earlier he had played songs dedicated to his clan, his family. He wrote the ballads based off of stories from his cousin’s quests and their own choices. The wooden table creaked as the mystery man finished off his mug of ale.

“Oh,” Jaskier said, a sudden realization crossing his mind. “The double swords, the most beautiful locks of silver hair, the wolf medallion hanging around your neck… I know what you are.” He insisted, allowing a bit of sing-song to slip into his voice. The witcher stood up quickly and moved to get away from Jaskier,

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The witcher grumbled before pushing past Jaskier and towards the tavern door.

“You’re the witcher!” Jaskier exclaimed. This encounter would make him the first Addams to meet a witcher and survive. “Geralt of Rivia!” He called out, Geralt was already out the door. Jaskier dashed across the tavern and grabbed his lute, then rushed to follow the monster hunter.

“A witcher travels the path alone,” Geralt said as he sniffed the air again upon Jaskier’s arrival. An idea came to him, 

“I could be your barker! Oh imagine it, the witcher and his bard. The bard and his witcher, taking on the world! It would make for a glorious tune!” Jaskier continued to walk the same pace as Geralt, despite him obviously trying to speed up his horse to get away.

“Don’t touch Roach,” Geralt grunted. A grin stretched across Jaskier’s face as he began to strum an upbeat melody.

They spent a week traveling, Jaskier following dutifully behind Roach’s ass as Geralt failed to ignore his talking. “So,” Jaskier began as they entered a new town. “What’s next?” Geralt grunted in response then tried to put Roach in a stable. The man watching the horses walked in front of Geralt. The stable hand pulled Roach’s rope off the tack and Jaskier couldn’t help but frown as Geralt didn’t get any angrier than a growl. The witcher turned to walk to a different tack, but Jaskier pushed forward fast enough so Geralt couldn’t see his eyes turning black. He pulled out his knife from his sleeve and pressed it against the stable man’s neck. Gazing into the man’s soul Jaskier could see his cowardice wrapped in a thick blanket of fear. Jaskier darkened his eyes, “This man is not a butcher, he is not a monster for you and your town to prosecute. He is a protector, he  _ hunts _ the monsters your townsmen are too terrified to face themselves.” The man whimpered,

“What are you?” He asked, fear laced into every word he spoke. Jaskier pressed the blade a little bit harder to the stable man’s neck. A light trail of blood stained the man’s shirt. Leering at the coward Jaskier growled,

“You ever heard of the Addams Clan?” The man’s lips curved into a smirk,

“They’re fake, legends told to kids to make them behave.” Jaskier pulled the knife back then wrapped his fingers around the man’s neck,

“This man is a  _ hero _ , understand?  _ I’m _ what’s going to haunt your nightmares.” the bard hissed into the stable man’s ear. The fear returned to the man’s face, he nodded quickly, not wanting to antagonize Jaskier any further. At the man’s assurance Jaskier returned his eyes to normal and grinned. Ignoring the man’s wince Jaskier patted him on the shoulder, “great! Glad we were able to come to an understanding. Now, about giving Roach a stall? She’s been traveling for days, poor girl is probably exhausted.” Jaskier almost cracked up in laughter at how fast the man scampered off to take care of Roach. Sliding his knife back into it’s place the bard grabbed his lute strap then turned around to face his traveling companion.

“Addams?” Geralt wondered, the word tasting sour in his mouth. Jaskier froze, he hadn’t meant to reveal his identity to the witcher. The bard was just pissed off by the audacity the stable man had in regards to respect. One of the first things Jaskier learned as a child was to respect those who deserve it, and that man definitely did  _ not _ deserve an Addams’s respect. Stumbling over his feet Jaskier quickly turned around, reverting to his non-threatening human-looking form.

“Addams?” Jaskier said, mimicking Geralt. Deciding to play dumb he decided to continue on and ask, “What are those?” Inwardly Jaskier deadpanned,  _ too dumb you idiot. Now he know’s something’s up. _ The bard continued to scold himself as Geralt bought them both an evening meal. Luckily for Jaskier though, the witcher didn’t seem to question his sudden change in personality. Following his friend to the corner table Jaskier shrugged his lute off his shoulder and leaned it against the wall beside him. Their corner table was shoved up in the back of the tavern, overlooking the other patrons. Jaskier shouldn’t have to worry about thieves trying to swipe his instrument case.

“You’re not playing tonight?” Geralt asked into his mug of ale. Jaskier gave him a small shrug in response,

“My fingers are tired my dear friend,” he answered. They finished their meal in a sort of comfortable silence. Jskier decided to provide commentary on drunks sitting at a table out of their earshot. As they scraped the last of their food off their plates a townsperson approached their table. He was a short man and to Jaskier, his face looked closer to a rat than a human. Deciding against voicing his opinions, he reached out a hand introducing himself and Geralt. “It is a pleasure to meet you good sir, my name is Jaskier The Bard and my companion is -” the man cut him off,

“The Butcher of Blavikin! We need your help, there’s a devil and he’s stealing all of our grain. My name is Gorg by the way.” He shook Jaskier’s hand then turned to Geralt. “So, what’s your price?” Geralt’s voice was deep as he answered,

“Fifty crowns before, fifty crowns after the job is completed.” Jaskier almost laughed at how comically large the man’s eyes grew upon hearing the barter.

“ _ Fifty crowns _ , you’ve got to be joking,” Gorg said in protest. Jaskier dove in before they lost the job,

“Forty-five crowns before, fifty after. If we discover this beast is something harder to defeat we’ll round it back up to fifty.” Grog looked between Geralt and Jaskier. Realizing he was in a losing battle he nodded, producing a coin pouch from his side pocket.

“I expect proof the beast is slain upon your return Witcher,” Gorg demanded. Jaskier rolled his eyes as he tucked the money away in his and Geralt’s shared money bag. The added weight to the bag threatened to pull down Jaskier’s pants if he reattached it to his hip, so the bard tossed it. Geralt caught it halfway across the table,

“I’ll bring his horns.” Geralt promised as he stood up. Jaskier leapt up and scampered after his witcher, dragging his lute behind him as he went. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yell at me on Tumblr: @Random-Nerd-3


End file.
